domhain_bydfandomcom-20200213-history
12-05-04 Syeira, Doran
Syeira Faolin (Parthenogenic) (5/4/2013 7:58:30 PM) (1605355) Cliath isn't the capital, but it should be. Further up the river sits Wolf's Keep. Where the town ends and the castle begins is difficult to say there. It's a small city, but the river connects it all the way up into the mountains. Cliath lacks a castle and would be vulnerable to attack, but it's a good place for shipping and farming, there on the rich black soil of the river delta. The smallest river tributaries even connect it to the flatlands, where the cattle are raised and meat and cheese are sent back down the river again. It's the wealthiest city in all of Aitbheth, nestled between the sea, Wolf's Keep at it's back, and the feast forest for the ratkin across the delta from it. And all I can think of is how difficult it would be to defend. If my own home could be stolen from me, how can anything be safe... I hug my arms around my body as I trudge down the cobblestone road toward the docks. "I don't want to go to Pilurn." It probably sounds petulant and childish, but I don't care. Leaving now just gives my cousin more power and more time to harm people. This is wrong. Terribly, horribly wrong. Doran Gallagher (RabbitMage) (5/4/2013 8:07:36 PM) (1605361) "What would you do instead?" I've raised no children of my own. I've never had the desire to. I don't think I have the gentleness a babe needs, nor do I have the patience for a toddler. And I especially don't have the tolerance for an insolent teenager. Yet, I've raised plenty of those. Trained plenty of guards who came to us utterly green. Boys who had never learned to pay respect or follow orders. Some men would simply bark at them and berate them until they listened. I always thought it left them dull and afraid to learn. I had a different approach with them, and I'll use it with Syeira now. I've kept my armor on out of caution, though I'd pried off the wolf symbol our first night on the run. Carrying the sigil of a fallen house can be bad for a man's health. For now, it's tucked into a makeshift coin purse, which is otherwise empty. As we approach the docks my eyes start scanning, searching for something. Syeira Faolin (Parthenogenic) (5/4/2013 8:17:21 PM) (1605368) "I'd go to the feast forest and, from there, begin rallying wolf packs from the countryside. A Daoine on the throne won't be as favorable to them. A traitorous Daoine even less-so. He's likely had the druids in the castle killed already, since they'll recognize any lies he tells. Any of my father's wolves will either be driven out or killed, too. Strainseiri will notice that. They won't be happy. Worse, they'll likely suffer because Brendan will know they'd support me." I am grieving. I am. It might not be apparent to Doran, but I tend to deal with really awful, dark emotions by getting overly analytical. I think it's better than sitting around crying and acting like a spoiled little girl. Instead, I can cry when no one will hear. "People will die no matter what, but fewer of them will die if they're organized instead of being taken by surprise." Doran Gallagher (RabbitMage) (5/4/2013 8:33:17 PM) (1605387) "I would guess that your uncle's forces are at the feast forest right now looking for you. The Strainseiri cannot rally if they've no one left to rally behind. And they will support you, but who will lead them? Forgive me, but I don't believe you should lead the charge." It feels disrespectful not to use her title as I address her, but using it now would just draw attention and put us in danger. My eyes finally find the ship I'm after. It's an absolutely unremarkable merchant ship being loaded with a remarkable amount of whiskey at the moment. I slow my pace as I watch two men on the dock argue. Syeira's better ears might catch bits of the conversation, some disagreement about the potential profit per gallon or some other economic nonsense. I stay back until that conversation concludes and the shorter of the two men stalks back onto the ship. The remaining man is very clearly Ratkin, even in his very Daoine body. When he notices us, he tilts his head, examining me. "You son of a bitch!" He closes the distance between us quickly...and then wraps his arms around me in a hug. I hug him firmly...briefly. He opens his mouth to say something, but pauses as he spots Syeira. "She's a bit young for you then, isn't she? Awful kind of you, but I've got a wife already." Syeira Faolin (Parthenogenic) (5/4/2013 8:43:18 PM) (1605397) "Cu Art led the charge when he conquered Aitbheth," I point out. Of course, he wasn't sixteen at the time and he had a far more fierce battle form than the six inch long rat I can currently turn into. But I don't want to be limited in those ways. I know Ratkin can be more than just tiny little annoyances. I''want to be more than that. I fall quiet when I notice Doran slowing his pace. The discussion between the men doesn't sound like the sort of thing I hear much of in the castle. No one ever cares much about profits there, though. It's usually about taxes and spending too much to keep the kingdom running. My father is--or, well, was--a shrewd man, though. There usually weren't many worries about money within my earshot. I cock my head curiously as I listen to them. One man leaves and the taller man notices Doran, then stalks over quickly. I back up a bit, not liking any sudden movements at the moment. When he makes the comment about Doran being kind, I puff up angrily. If I were shifted, I might look closer to a porcupine at the moment. "I'm not for you." '''Doran Gallagher (RabbitMage)' (5/4/2013 8:59:38 PM) (1605409) "Oh, she's a feisty one, isn't she?" He steps back, looking her over. I simply shake my head. "She's not for me, either. We need passage to Pilurn." My apparent friend glances to his ship, turning that over in his head. "We leave as soon as she's loaded, but you know I can't give free passage to an old friend. Especially an old friend who has no business in Pilurn and is bringing a young lady with him." I nod, and offer him the coin purse I'd been carrying. It doesn't jingle, but there's weight to it, which plainly confuses him. He reaches in and pulls out the wolf sigil, turning it over in his hands. "It's solid silver. And it polishes up nicely." His eyebrows both raise at that as he turns it over in his hands. "I need passage for the both of us, and keep any concern about our business to yourself." As he turns the sigil over in his hands, I can see his brows knit once again. His eyes raise to Syeira, and there's finally a mixed look of shock and recognition. He knows who she is, and he understands what's happened. "What business?" He slips the wolf's head in his pocket before motioning to the gangplank. "Welcome aboard. You'd best take my quarters, just in case." Syeira Faolin (Parthenogenic) (5/4/2013 9:09:06 PM) (1605419) I'd seen Doran remove the wolf sigil from his armor and I'd understood why he was doing it. What I didn't understand was why he was giving it to this other man. Not until he points out that it's solid silver. The armor had never really registered much in my mind as how much it cost. I knew that it was a hefty investment for a commonborn man to get armor and enter knight training, but the addition of something on top of that for service in the castle was largely beneath my notice. Something about the sigil being sold doesn't sit well with me, but we need passage and it's a lot of silver. "Thank you, Captain," I tell the man, giving him a nod. At least I assume he's the captain. He's the one making the decision to let us onboard. I spare a glance to Doran, then take a deep breath before I head up the gangplank. Leaving Aitbheth feels even more wrong than selling the sigil, but it doesn't seem as though I have much choice at the moment. Doran Gallagher (RabbitMage) (5/4/2013 9:17:22 PM) (1605435) "Watch your step," the captain advises as she starts up the gangplank. Going first, I note, though she still doesn't know how to find the captain's quarters. Eventually, I'm sure she'll figure out that she can't lead if she doesn't know where she's going. She isn't stupid, just young. It happens to all of us. Once we're on deck I brush past her. I don't place as much trust in the crew, so I don't fancy sitting out in the open. "This way," I tell her as I lead her across the ship. Syeira Faolin (Parthenogenic) (5/4/2013 9:24:20 PM) (1605440) I'll follow behind Doran as he leads the way across the ship, though I'm looking all around as I follow. I've spent time on ships before, so I note the design and such. Finding the captain's cabin would have been difficult without being told where it was, since there'd be the possibility that it's not immediately apparent, but usually servants walk alongside to open doors and unobtrusively guide the way, instead of subjecting the Crown Princess to the embarrassment of being lead around like a child. Which, I'm sure, is exactly how Doran sees me. "Am I that recognizable?" I ask quietly. I'd seen the look on the captain's face after Doran gave him the sigil. True, he might just be a smart man putting two and two together, but even in Aitbheth, the big mass of red curls that runs in the Faolin family isn't exactly common. Couple that with our distinctive blue eyes and it could be a problem, I realize. Doran Gallagher (RabbitMage) (5/4/2013 9:50:39 PM) (1605468) She may have done alright. There's a squat square room near the bow of the ship. Five stairs lead down to a recessed door, which I'll open for her. Our captain seems to do well for himself, as his quarters are quite large and well-furnished. The bed could easily fit two people, there's a small table for dining in private, and ample candles to stave off the darkness. Currently light streams in from a well-placed window. I'll wait until we're both safe inside and the door is shut before I speak again. "You are," I agree. "Anyone who has seen you will know you, and anyone who knows your family can guess. Not to mention Greary can tell you're ratkin, knows I'm a member of the king's guard, and knows I'm no longer bearing his sigil. He knows you aren't my wife, sister, or daughter. He made the logical conclusion. Other people will be looking for you, and they will make those conclusions, too. Those people likely aren't old friends of mine." Syeira Faolin (Parthenogenic) (5/4/2013 10:01:21 PM) (1605477) Once we step into the room, I step past him, keeping my back to him for the moment as I look around. I'm not worried about the lack of privacy here. I only have the clothes I'm wearing after all, so it's not as if I'll be changing and primping in here. I'll likely sleep in my rat form for the most part and be just fine. A pillow will be enough for me, if I can trust him not to squish me. But that isn't why I'm keeping my back to him. I can feel my features twisting with a quiet hysteria that I've been fighting to keep inside all this time. I will not break in front of this man. My father wouldn't go crying and whimpering in front of one of his guards and I won't do that either. There's a fireplace in here. It should do well to get rid of my hair when I'm done. "Give me your knife," I tell him, my voice tight around the words as I hold my hand out, palm up. Staying in rat form and hiding the entire time is an option, but not a very good one. There are plenty of dangers for a rat. That's why they haven't overrun the world. An anonymous girl is much safer, and it's not unheard of for women in Aitbheth to have short hair. It's certainly less eye-catching than the Faolin curls. Doran Gallagher (RabbitMage) (5/4/2013 10:22:30 PM) (1605497) I hesitate when she asks for my knife. I know she's hurting. She's just lost her parents and left behind her only home. But I also see what her intent is. I think, anyway. "Let me. I can make a cleaner cut." I know Syeira isn't overly vain, thank the gods, but I can spare her from looking as though she's been mauled. I pull my knife, stepping up behind her to gather her hair. Syeira Faolin (Parthenogenic) (5/4/2013 10:28:32 PM) (1605501) "All right." I'll stand there stoically, waiting for him to cut my hair. No, I'm not a particularly vain girl. Not on the surface, anyway. I have no interest in clothes or dressing up or any of those fussy things. I've always cared far more about my studies and the possibilities of adventures and building things. But I am still a sixteen year old girl and I want to be pretty. Since I've been told over and over again that my hair is my best feature, any prettiness I might have managed to develop is going into the fire in a moment here. Oh well. It's not as if it would do me any good anyway. Pretty girls die just as well as ugly ones. The ugly ones are just a little less likely to be noticed. "Try to make it straight as straight as you can. If it's jagged, it'll poof up and I'll look like one of those absurd fluffy puddle dogs." Doran Gallagher (RabbitMage) (5/4/2013 10:50:07 PM) (1605517) I brush her hair back toward me, pulling it into a pony tail. It needs to be short enough to hide, if we need to. She's a bit past the point where she could dress as a boy, but if we need... The knife is drawn through her hair, slicing it off in a single, straight cut. I let it drop and look at it, pleased with my work. It is very straight, and incredibly short now. I look at the length of hair in my hand and offer it to her, really unsure what to do with it. I've always dealt with young men. If she's going to be upset over a haircut, I won't know what to do with her. Syeira Faolin (Parthenogenic) (5/4/2013 10:56:00 PM) (1605524) I flinch slightly when I feel the knife go through my hair, but otherwise don't react outwardly. Part of me wishes he'd go away, but I know that's absurd. I need him here to protect me. I just desperately want to be alone with my feelings for a little while. I take a deep breath, then turn to him and take my offered hair. "Thank you." It feels very strange to hold it in my hand. All these curls I spent so much time brushing and fighting with. The one thing anyone ever really complimented me on that I genuinely believed. Flattery comes cheap in the king's court. Silly, really. I have no control over the color of my hair or it's texture. Someone might as well compliment me for being born in Aitbheth. Maybe someday, someone will actually like something I've done instead of just what I am. That in mind, I toss the hair into the fire. Hands now free, I bring them up to comb through what reminds of my hair. "Do I look a little less like me?" Doran Gallagher (RabbitMage) (5/4/2013 11:16:22 PM) (1605537) "You're getting there, your highness." At least in private, I can address her properly. And since there is privacy, I can finally give her some. I sheath my knife and turn for the door. "I'm going to have a word with the captain. Keep this door locked and do not open it for anyone save him or me. I'll be back with some food and drink." It gives me an excuse to go, and leave her to whatever she needs to do now. She's had no chance to mourn, and I know she needs it. Syeira Faolin (Parthenogenic) (5/4/2013 11:26:18 PM) (1605543) "Very well, Doran." I'll turn to face him again and once he goes out, I step forward to lock the door behind him. Once I do have that much longed for privacy, I sink down to the floor to hug my knees to my chest and rest my forehead against them. To my mild surprise, I don't cry. I can feel it all stuffed up inside of me and needing a way out, but it won't come now. Instead, I just sit there in silent misery and think about my parents. My last moments with my father were wasted. I'd rolled my eyes at an embarrassing ceremony and snuck away. I could have seen him for a few minutes longer. I could have given him a last hug. Something. Anything. All I can think about is the last glimpse of him sitting there. Neither of us having any idea that it was the end. He didn't glance at me and I only looked to be sure I wouldn't be scolded and told to come back. By the gods, I wish I had been. Category:Logs Category:Syeira Faolin Category:Doran Gallagher